


Celestial

by overgrownplants



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, I'll add more tags as we go, M/M, Multi, Pidge has a crush, Slow Burn, everyone is a god except keith, gay af, keith is a big mess™, keith is a sacrifice, lance doesn't know how to deal with his feelings, the gods are chill af tho, this is quickly turning into a completely different fic that what i've planned, war ™
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-09-18 15:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16997406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overgrownplants/pseuds/overgrownplants
Summary: The ornaments rattled on his wrists as the palanquin trudged towards the mountain top, deathly silence as if it was a funeral.And in a way, he guessed it was.





	1. a sacrifice.

**Author's Note:**

> season 8 killed me accept this offering that ive prepared for months 
> 
> i hope i can actually pull this off lol

The ornaments rattled on his wrists as the palanquin trudged towards the mountain top, deathly silence as if it was a funeral.

 

And in a way, he guessed it was.

 

Staring down at his fingers filled with different sizes rings, the boy wondered how his life had gotten to this point. This year’s harvest had failed miserably, leaving the entire kingdom starving and dying as the winter approaches, and the ambassador sent to seek the oracle on the other side of the mountain had declared the god wanted a sacrifice.

 

And not just any sacrifice, he wanted a warrior.

 

Lilac eyes glancing through his veil, the boy took one last look at the land he grew up. He had long been an orphan, so it made sense that the king would choose him, over the rest of the warriors who had families and wives and children. He would’ve volunteered anyways. 

 

The god of the lions…

 

Nobody had ever seen him and made it out alive. 

 

He couldn’t help the ugly slither of fear that settled into the pit of his stomach. Scowling at the feeling, he clenched his hands into fists. He was a warrior, one of their best, and now he was being dressed up like a virgin sacrifice. Dear gods.

 

“Keith,” one of the palanquin bearer whispered to him; an old friend of his. “I—I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” he sighed. “It’s not your fault, and you know I wouldn’t have let you go anyway.” 

 

The man hung his head down and continued moving forward. Keith was so young, barely eighteen years old. 

 

Such a pity. 

 

Keith gritted his teeth. He didn’t need pity. If this was what it takes to get his kingdom back to prosperity, before the Galra Empire could take advantage of this misfortune and invade, enslaving his people, then he would do it in a heartbeat. He was dead set on his mission; to do whatever it takes before it’s too late. 

 

Even if it means selling himself to a god.

 

“We can only take you this far,” the priestess who led the way said, clasping her hands around his. “May the blue lion bless you.”

 

Keith bowed and kissed her palms, a farewell. They left him alone with the delicate palanquin in the cave, the sanctuary. His friend gave him one last longing look before leaving, his feet dragging in the first snowflakes of an upcoming winter. 

 

Silence made the air stagnant, like a never ending pause. It was thick with tension despite the fact that he was the only living thing here. Keith stared at the fire dancing in the hearth, casting shadows on the caves, and all the offerings piled around him. 

 

This…exceptionally revealing tunic was starting to feel uncomfortable, and the crystal circlet on his head was tugging on his hair. All the jewelry they adorned him with jingled in his ears, creating some kind of buzz as the wind chimes they hung inside the cave pierced the veil of complete silence.

 

All of a sudden, the fire was blown out before turning blue, burning even brighter and making his eyes water. Keith jumped and blinked at the sight, unsure if it was a hallucination or proof of divinity. 

 

The shadows danced and little balls of blue flame lined up from thin air, creating a path that leads further into the cave. He narrowed his eyes, picking up a ceremony knife from the altar, something that he wasn’t supposed to have. But hell if he was going to walk in without any way to defend himself if needed. 

 

The path seemed to stretch on forever as he hesitantly continued forward, always guarded. The amount of noise those things on his body made was not helping his intentions to be stealthy. Keith furrowed his brows as there seemed to be a dead end in front of him, the fire hovering, lighting up the open room of the cave.

 

“Do you happen to be…Keith?” A voice said, and he immediately dropped into a defensive stance.

 

“Who’s speaking?” He demanded.

 

“Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

The stones from the end of the cave glowed a bright blue before rearranging themselves to form a gateway that rippled like it would lead to another world. Keith hesitantly slipped through, eyes narrowing to adjust to the blinding light from the torches on the other side, burning in complete darkness. 

 

“Is anyone there?” He called out, lowering his weapon despite himself. The flames floated towards him and he felt a shiver down his spine, a calling that told him to follow. He did, once again, and was greeted at the end with a figure of a man who looked older than he thought, who radiated an aura of warmth, with a bright orange moustache that went with the shades of his hair.

 

“Greetings, youngling,” the man said with a smile, “I assume you are the newest tribute?” 

 

Keith gritted his teeth. He disliked that word, but he guessed it was better than sacrifice. “Yes,” he replied curtly, knife still clutched tightly at his side.

 

“I am Coran,” he introduced himself, eyeing the weapon with disapproval, but the smile remained on his face, “And welcome to the Temple of Lions.” 

 

At his words, the rest of the torches on the walls lit up, revealing a stunning palace made of shiny, indestructible metal with intricate designs etched onto the surface. Every line glowed a soft blue, and Keith couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open just the tiniest bit in awe. 

 

“Are—Are those lights…”

 

“Magic?” Coran laughed good heartedly, gesturing for Keith to follow him. “In a way, they are.”

 

The man led Keith through winding hallways that seemed like a maze, stopping before a door that opened into something resembling a closet. “We must make you more presentable before we meet the gods; don’t want to make a bad impression now, do we?”

 

And without another word, he went to work.

 

Keith stared at himself, five minutes later, dressed in a bright red silk gown. “How is this presentable?” he fumed, face red from embarrassment. “This is clothing for a woman, and I am a warrior! This is humiliating!”   
  
Coran waggled his finger in front of the young man’s face. “It’s called fashion, youngling. This is the most favorable trend all over Asia now!” 

 

“Asia?” he furrowed his brows, “What’s Asia?”

 

“Oh, you mortals are adorable,” Coran laughed at him as if talking to a puppy, “I’m sure Lady Green would have a blast teaching you.” 

 

And with that, they went silent as the minor god did his job and prepared Keith to have an audience with the rest of the deities. 

 

They walked and walked, until gigantic doors etched with what Keith had come to know as the Insignia of the Lions appeared, and Coran gave him one last look and a good luck before the doors opened.

 

* * *

 

The throne room appeared before them in all of its glory, with four gods seated in front of him. They seemed fresh out of an argument of some sort, and Keith swallowed; these were  _ gods _ , divine beings that his people worship, and here he was, facing four of them with his own two eyes, and hopefully not still enraged. 

 

The first, and the one that stood out the most, was the god on the black marble throne. He radiated an aura of authority, with his neatly trimmed black hair and a tuft of white draping down to cover his face. A scar stretched across his nose, somehow giving him an even more mythical appearance. But the most striking and terrifying feature were his eyes, a thunderstorm threatening to break, full of anger and a power beyond anything Keith could ever imagine. Yet, the clouds cleared as soon as those eyes set on him, and he felt a warmth washing over him, sunlight gently warming him up and away from that sudden unease. Keith forced himself to tear his eyes away from the god, fearing for his sanity.

 

Immediately on the god’s left was a throne of wood and vines, with a beautiful goddess perched on top. She looked young, way younger than Keith was, with her soft brown hair cut short, ending by her shoulders, hands folded on her green robes. Her eyes however were nothing but analytical as she stared at him, gaze sweeping through as if assessing him. He tried to look away but found himself drawn into her curious eyes, with irises that change colors every time she blinks. Emerald, mint, lime, before she noticed that he was staring and settled for a chilling shade of sage.

 

Next to the goddess was another throne made of smooth sandstone that belonged to the massive god in yellow seated on it. He was bulky, with a large form that should be intimidating, but the aura he gave off was gentle. The man gave Keith a sheepish smile, his eyes gleaming with specks of bright colors on brown, like gemstones underneath the earth. If he was gonna play favorites, Keith has to say the yellow god has his vote. 

 

But the gaze that made him shiver the most must’ve been that of the blue god as his eyes narrowed at the human. His fingers gripped the side of the glowing crystal throne he sat upon, body tense as he watched Coran and Keith walking into the room. Keith briefly wondered what was the reason behind that reaction before deciding that poking his nose into godly business would probably be the worst thing to do right now. He risked a peek at the god, and those eyes froze him right on the spot.

 

“My lords and my lady, the gods of the Lions, may I present to you,” Coran turned over to Keith before he could trip over himself and motioned for him to bow, “The newest tribute from the Altean Kingdom.” 

 

“You may stand,” the god in black said, “Tell me, youngling, what is your name?”

 

“Keith.” He replied, holding his head high after being given permission to stand. Coran glanced at him nervously and he stuttered. “My lord.”

 

The god looked pleased despite the hiccup, “Good. Do you know why you’re here, Keith?” 

 

“To do whatever bidding the gods demand, my lord. To serve you all is my honor.” He bowed his head obediently, remembering all those customs and rules that the temples have preached to the entire kingdom since the dawn of their civilization.

 

The blue god groaned. “Great, another one of those? We don’t need servants, didn’t you all insist on this to look for a replacement for—”

 

“La—Blue, that is enough.” The god of the Black Lion chided and the latter rolled his eyes. “We do not talk about those issues in the presence of mortals.”

 

…Issues? What issues?

 

But before Keith could even think to ask, the yellow god spoke up. “So who’s taking the mortal?” He asked, fiddling with the sleeve of his robes. “Can we just get this over with?”

 

“I agree with him,” the green goddess said, and waved her hand dismissively. “Let Blue handle it.”

 

“What.” was all the blue god said, his face stone cold, but his eyes were even icier. Keith shivered, looking at those irises that resembled a frozen lake in the dead of winter.

 

“Red was your wife after all; it makes sense for you to take this mortal.”

 

Blue didn’t answer, and he merely turned his head away, refusing to even spare Keith another glance. 

 

The other gods exchanged a look and finally Black nodded. “Very well then. I am counting on you.”

 

He clapped twice and thunder shook the throne room. Keith yelped in surprise as two bracelets appeared on his wrists, glowing a soft blue. They looked like highly priced jewelry, with intricate patterns edged into the rock, something the nobles would kill for. At the same time, it’s like nothing he had ever seen before; even rare illuminating stones don’t gleam this bright. But Keith, having been captured numerous times, knew exactly what those are. Shackles, used to restrain his freedom and show who he belongs to now.

 

His people always says it’s an honor to be a servant for the gods, but there was nothing honorable about this.

 

He was nothing more than a slave.

 


	2. fear.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear paralyzed his body but he forced his legs to run, to carry him somewhere safe, and as his eyes caught a familiar figure strolling down the hallway, he stumbled and grabbed onto the minor god like a lifeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i pumped this chapter out last night while i was still riding the emotion wave of s8 @@ i probably won't be able to keep writing until midterms are over, which is next wednesday, but until then, enjoy this trash :)) 
> 
> **tw: noncon**

“Coran, would you take the mortal to Blue’s chambers?” Black said, a strained smile on his face at how Blue was glaring at Keith. If looks could kill, Keith would be dead. And he wasn’t so sure if such a thing was impossible because he’s dealing with not one, or two, but four gods now, and nothing is impossible when you have four gods together.

 

He was jerked away from his thoughts when Coran gave him a whistle, like a dog, and his hands were pulled forward by the wrists. Keith was right about those bracelets after all; they were shackles, magical shackles that are strong enough to physically overpower him and his signature stubbornness. 

 

His feet struggled to keep up, so Coran gave him an apologetic smile and slowed down. 

 

They walked side by side, a silence surrounding them. Keith kept catching the old man shooting him looks with meanings that he didn’t understand, and it was starting to get on his nerves.

 

He stared straight back at the minor god the next time their eyes met, and the latter had the decency to look embarrassed. 

 

Coran cleared his throat. “So, I feel obligated to give you a piece of advice.” As Keith eyed him skeptically, he relaxed his posture a bit to show that there shouldn’t be any real danger, but it probably would be an useful thing to remember. “Lord Blue is not very…himself, right now, so…” The man turned over and grabbed Keith’s shoulders, something of a paternal protectiveness burning in his eyes. “Be careful, son. And don’t hesitate to come to me or the other gods; Blue might be a god too but we all bow under the mighty Black Lion.”

 

Keith stared at the minor god; it’s been so long since he had someone looking out for him. And having an adult in his corner was…nice, the warmth spreading from his chest to his stomach and left him with a burning desire to embrace this old man, this immortal, who found it in himself to take care of someone like him, not only insignificant but now a slave. 

 

So he did. Carefully, wary of stepping over some kind of invisible boundaries but filled with determination anyway, Keith wrapped Coran in his arms, and the latter let out a surprised laugh but only hesitated for a split second before hugging him back.

 

It’s been so long, Keith thought, burying his face into the other’s shoulder and allowing himself a moment of weakness. But they were still out in the open and his instincts screamed at him to not be vulnerable. So he let go.

 

Coran was looking at him with something unreadable on his face. He had half a mind to ask, but the minor god smiled. “You remind me of someone,” he said, continue walking towards Blue’s chambers, “Someone I haven’t seen in a very, very long time.”

 

Time? Does it even pass the same way for immortals? They had infinite time; like a desert in their hourglass, so why do they even bother? 

 

He must have been scowling because Coran’s face softened, and with a final pat at his back, ushered him into the room behind those terrifyingly blue doors.

 

The first thing he registered was the lights. 

 

This guy somehow managed to have the ceiling made out of glass, like a skylight, but made it look like they were at the bottom of the ocean. Keith craned his neck as he watched the sparkling sapphire waves on top of him, swarming with schools of fish and waving underwater plants. In the middle of the room was a gigantic poster bed, something fitting for a god, with soft cerulean sheets, clean and pressed, and for some reason, a fur pelt draped over the end of the bed. The pillows looked like clouds and his back was aching, but he didn’t dare just sit into the bed of the Blue Lion god. He told himself that it wasn’t proper etiquette, that the Acolytes raised him better than this, and when that didn’t work, he grumbled that Blue would probably teleport in and kill him as soon as his head hit those sheets.

 

…  

 

Oh what the hell.

 

To give himself a bit of sweet, petty revenge, Keith slammed down onto the sea of cotton as hard as he could, bouncing and laughing breathlessly to himself. He knew that he was working up a sweat with his uncontrollable anxiety that he hates so much, so he decided to rub himself all over those pristine sheets. In his defense, Blue  _ was _ being an asshole for no reason.

 

He looked overhead when the shadows came and caught the sight of a massive creature swimming in the vast ocean above him, eyes blinking to make sure it wasn’t a hallucination. Usually he would freak out over such a thing, immediately going defensive, but there was something about this creature that struck him as gentle. Low rumbling sounds filled the room, the acoustic amplifying the sound and he could feel himself relaxing, sinking further into the bliss of a real bed after months at the battlefield. 

 

He had barely had a moment to relax; King Alfor had told him of the oracle’s demand as soon as he was rushed back from the front lines, where the war with the Galra raged. His heart tightened at the thought of his kingdom. Other people would probably feel hatred or resentment at such a fate, being sent of to what was certain death as a sacrifice for the gods, but not him. Keith knew how important this is for Altea, and how his people was starting to get restless and desperate, and if this was a chance for him to help, to repay the kindness the Acolytes have given him, then he’d gladly do it. 

 

Keith has always been an honorable,  _ victory or death _ kind of person. The Acolytes said that was not the way of the Alteans, and that despite that, he should never be ashamed of who he was, but he knew he was like this because of his lineage. 

 

Again, not everyone would willingly take in a Galran orphan, especially in the heat of war. He had a lot of kindness to repay.

 

His train of thoughts was interrupted when a presence in the room made itself known with a low, almost growling sound. Despite the fact that it didn’t seem threatening, Keith sprung off the bed with all the grace of a warrior, weaponless but hands up and ready to fight for his life. Something about this noise was different, though; a rumbling kind of presence like it was the room itself, or as if the sound was resonating with his mind.  

 

The source slowly stepped out of the shadows, a blue paw, a muzzle, ears that were twitching at his direction. All of it was covered in a coat of fur, azure blue and pristine.

 

Keith felt his legs wobble, out of his control. The bracelets were glowing, now, and the lion’s eyes glowed too, bright and golden and frightening. That unspoken command forced him to his knees again, and he gritted his teeth, truly scared for the first time in his life. He wasn’t the kind of person who gets easily spooked, but this  _ creature _ really tested that statement.

 

The blue lion—no, Keith realized, startled,  _ the _ Blue Lion, regarded him with a cautious expression, and how animals could even wear such complex emotions was beyond him. But here he was, facing a beast of incomprehensible power, a literal legend, and it seemed nothing but…intrigued, with him. 

 

Oh gods. What if  _ this _ was the real sacrifice? He was gonna get eaten by a mythical animal. Okay. 

 

Keith reminded himself that this was going to be worth it, for his kingdom, closed his eyes, and braced himself as the lion came closer and closer to his face, until he could feel its breath fanning on his face.

 

It smelled of salt, like the ocean, and unlike other beasts that he had faced off before, its breath was cool, something that reminded him of a gentle breeze on a summer night, lying down on wet grass with no care because he was too occupied with how beautiful the stars above him were. 

 

Altea. Altea and the scent of his favorite juniberry field, the same one the Acolytes had behind the temple, the one that he used to sneak out to at nights when he couldn’t sleep, and would rather watch the night sky as it twinkled eternally with what he thought must be diamonds or tears of lost children like him.

 

After Altea found him, he wasn’t lost anymore. He knew who he was, what he was there to do, and he never had a doubt. Whoever his mother was, he knew two things about her. One, she was a Galra, and two.

 

She abandoned him.

 

A worried nudge in the back of his mind pulled him out of the spiral it was heading down, and he shook himself awake. There was something akin to concern etched in the hard to decipher features of the lion, but it nuzzled against him and for a second Keith tensed, before giving in and awkwardly hugged the creature back, finally aware of the tears that fell down his face.

 

He already missed his home. 

 

* * *

 

The Lion was surprisingly tame, almost catlike in its quest for affection. It came up close to him and dropped into his lap in all of its furry glory, three hundred pounds of pure muscle and fluffiness. He sagged a little under the weight, but the Lion’s fur was making it so comfortable to be around. Keith couldn’t help himself and threaded his fingers into its coat, which earned him a pleased hum. He laughed; this legendary creature is just a big, powerful, deadly housecat, and he was starting to feel like staying here maybe isn’t that bad after all. He got Coran and a giant lion.

 

The doors slid open and came a grumble from an annoyed god.

 

He spoke too soon.

 

The Blue Lion gracefully slid off his lap to greet its master, and Keith felt anger starting to bubble at the pit of his stomach at the sight of the blue god. 

 

“Lord Blue,” he acknowledged cautiously, suddenly mindful of the fact that now he was alone in a room with the god who liked him the least. 

 

Blue looked him over with an icy stare, eyes narrowed and one brow raised. Keith could feel the effect of that glare slithering down his spine like a bucket of cold water, drowning out the flickering flames of anger in his guts. He sputtered as the god moved closer and closer, and the Lion seemed to have sensed something that his mortal brain haven’t, and rose to defend him, but moved aside reluctantly when Blue shot it another look, slinking back into the shadows in defeat. 

 

He was backing Keith into a corner and Keith hated how those eyes petrified him. Was this an effect that the element give the god? All he could tell was that Blue didn’t like him, he was getting awfully close and the faint stench of alcohol was in his breath.

 

Alcohol? Oh fuck.

 

Keith knew all about alcohol. It’s what makes wise leaders lunge at each other in a drunken brawl, what makes the men on the streets corner young women, what makes the Acolytes made him swear to never drink himself to oblivion. 

 

In hindsight, he probably should’ve known that alcohol was a bad omen.

 

But the god’s eyes softened all of a sudden, the expression on his face something close to disbelief. Tidal waves of emotions washed over the both of them, Keith’s confused and anxious and something else he couldn’t name, while Blue’s eyes were nothing but warmth and an overwhelming relief, joy and a tiny, almost intangible utterance of…

 

“…Red?” 

 

They stood together in that stifling silence before Keith couldn’t handle it anymore. He risked trying to wake the god from his trance, a soft, “Lord Blue?”

 

And just like that, the moment was broken. 

 

Blue’s eyes froze over as realization crashed in, and he closed them. Keith swallowed nervously, the smell of alcohol still making his head ring.

 

But Blue’s moment of sobriety didn’t last long.

 

Keith felt arms, strong arms, lifted him without any struggles and gasped. He fought back, trying to break free of the hold, trying to yell when it didn’t work, but the god gritted out a  _ shut up _ and all of a sudden his tongue felt too heavy to speak, his throat wouldn’t make a sound and for the first time since the temple of the Acolytes burned to the ground, Keith felt horror thumped in his heart. His veins rushed blood to his body, desperately trying to struggle, to fight, to do  _ anything, _ but the bracelets glowed once more and he was frozen in place, eyes wide with terror.

 

“Your eyes,” the god got close enough to hiss those words in his ears, “How did you get her eyes?”

 

Her? What— _ Red’s _ eyes?

 

He couldn’t speak, and panic set his entire body on fire as he felt hands snaking on his back, up and down, and Keith felt like he was going to throw up and  _ oh gods no not this he would rather bleed out on the altar _ —

 

The Lion gave a push of determination and rage in his mind and suddenly he could control his own body again.

 

Keith did the first thing he could think of. He backhanded the immortal god, snatched the opportunity of escape like a man about to die, and ran as far away from that room as possible.

 

Fear paralyzed his body but he forced his legs to run, to carry him somewhere safe, and as his eyes caught a familiar figure strolling down the hallway, he stumbled and grabbed onto the minor god like a lifeline.

 

“K—Keith?” Coran stuttered as he caught the mortal in his arms. Alarm settled in his voice when he felt the latter shaking in the embrace, arms coming up to protect his head. “Youngling, are you alright?”

 

But Keith said nothing. He didn’t even register anything until Coran wrapped him up in a tight hug, silently lending him much needed strength, and for the first time in three years, he allowed himself to cry.

 

He sobbed into the old man’s arms that night, wishing that he had never gone up to this cursed mountain.

 


	3. her.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blood stained the ground crimson as the red lion wailed in agony, and he could hear someone screaming, screaming, screaming—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, sorry for the longer-than-expected break :') christmas break is here and it's...hard, to say the least, but i'll try to write more when i can. thanks for sticking around :))

_ the battlefield raged around them as he looked into her eyes, burning with a fire, fueled by a deadly fury that tells people to get out of her way or face the consequences. _

 

_ but all he saw was love. _

 

_ a love that melted the icy worry in the bottom of his soul, slow and gentle yet determined. she looked beautiful, even in the midst of the chaos around her, galra soldiers falling at her feet like worshippers, blood spilled a bright red, her color. he felt the adrenaline rushing in his veins and pulled his bow, arrows flying all over the battle, striking down their foes.  _

 

_ the terror of voltron, side by side; the red lion goddess and her most devoted believer, her husband, her partner in crime.  _

 

_ lance unsheathed his sword and impaled a soldier, anyone stupid enough to approach his goddess. screams scattered around him, but his eyes were only on her. _

 

_ she jumped on the red lion and they raced, her mighty whip slicing enemies in half, and set what remained on fire. he immediately called his darling blue and went after her, adamant to keep her safe despite knowing that she doesn’t need anyone taking care of her.  _

 

_ his eyes wandered and he wasn’t disappointed. they were voltron after all, a force to be reckoned with when they were complete, and the galra didn’t stand a chance. pidge and hunk worked together, their magic usually gentle but this time unforgiving. they all knew what was at stakes, and they couldn’t risk losing the lions to the galra empire. shiro and the black lion tore through the enemy lines, determined to get to emperor zarkon himself. lightning danced around their leader with a deadly threat, but the galrans stood their ground and fought anyway. victory or death, that is the galra way, and a deafening battle cry shook the field scattered with dead bodies as the galran god himself emerged from behind his followers, chariot blazing purple flames, his son following suit behind him.  _

 

_ lance remembered the fiery look in his beloved’s eyes as she finally set her sight on the half altean traitor. she, too, cried at the top of her lungs as she charged at the god of illusion, and he remembered calling out to her, seeing a flash of violet behind her back and screaming,  _ screaming _ to warn her that it was a trap, a trap, a trap _ —

 

_ blood stained the ground crimson as the red lion wailed in agony, and he could hear someone screaming, screaming, screaming _ —

 

“Lance?  _ Lance! _ ” 

 

He shot up in his bed, trembling like a leaf. His face was wet with tears, breaths short and ragged, and he could only vaguely register a presence next to him, someone or something tiny but persistent. The god stared at his hands as if they were also stained with the blood of his wife, scarlet burning through his skin.  

 

But she brought him out of it.

 

“It’s okay, it’s just a nightmare,” she soothed him, and he turned his bleary eyes over to find Pidge, by his side as always, and shivered when she wrapped her arms around him. “It wasn't real, come on, breathe with me. I’m here.”   
  
And so he did, taking in the sweet smell of calming lavender that came from her robes as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. Her hands wandered through his back, drawing soothing patterns of plants and the waves of the ocean, things that he had memorized every single time he would wake up screaming and she would come running to him. 

 

The nightmares have plagued him ever since Al— _ Red _ , died. He gently pulled away from Pidge’s embrace and rubbed his face, exhausted. Did he drink too much last night?

 

“Yeah,” the smile she gave him was somewhat forced. He didn’t mean to say that out loud. “You really should stop drinking yourself to oblivion, you know.”

 

“Did I do something stupid?” He had only meant to ask that as a joke, but seeing the look on her face, his own started to pale. “Pidge?”

 

She grimaced. “You kinda…messed up, Lance. I saw Coran coming to see Shiro this morning, and honestly, I haven’t seen Shiro look that mad in aeons. Did you…did you do something to Keith?”   
  
“Keith?” His memory was drawing a blank. Who’s Keith?

 

Pidge looked unamused and sighed. “The mortal who is supposed to be under your care?”

 

…

 

Memories of last night came rushing back like a tidal wave, and he groaned, mortified. The goddess chuckled and Blue came up to curl around him on the bed, nuzzling him comfortingly but Lance swear the lion was laughing at him, too. 

 

He was so fucked.

 

* * *

 

Keith opened his eyes to a stranger’s room.

 

Immediately he was on guard, but one panicked look later and he forced himself to relax. He was in Coran’s quarters. He was safe. 

 

The shivers that ran down his spine at the thought of what happened last night made him scowl. He was stronger than that.

 

But the feeling of being frozen to one place, unable to escape, was not something he was eager to experience again.

 

He ran a hand through his messy hair and stopped when a soft blue light twinkled at his wrist. Right, the bracelets. It’s hard to get used to the invisible shackles; he didn’t even remember they were there until it was right on his face. Keith made a frustrated noise and flipped the sheets off him.

 

The minor god’s bed was the  _ second _ best thing he had ever had the privilege of laying his back on. Coran had taken him under his wing, soothing his frayed nerves and calmed the frightened child in him that he resents so much. Gentle paternal affection was in every single motion that Coran did, in the way he held Keith in his arms despite it being incredibly embarrassing, and how the god had given Keith his bed and dozed off on the little couch in the corner, remaining by his side until he let exhaustion take him. 

 

He couldn’t help but smile to himself. At least he knows one person in this goddamn place would be his ally.

 

His instinct told him it was probably not the best idea to leave the room and snoop around the castle, but his impulse and stomach disagreed. In the end, what kind of warrior would he be if he wouldn’t even take a risk? So he slowly took the robe he left on the floor last night and snuck out, wary of bumping into literal  _ gods _ , yet too stubborn to stay put.

 

Stumbling around, Keith opened one door to another. These things are really dangerous; one of them led to what seemed like an eternal darkness while another one led to a blinding column of light. He also found a massive garden that looked otherworldly, just like everything does in this palace. His eyes sparked at the library, and he threw it a longing look before continuing, and finally, what looked like the kitchen.

 

It was nowhere near empty, though.

 

The room was stuffed with what looked like flying balls of fluff, each doing a different task while some just floated about. In the middle of the chaos was the yellow god, hunching over the stove.

 

“Hey, Yellow, does it need more pepper?” He said, seemingly to himself, until Keith noticed a lion, cuddled up next to its master. The giant creature was gentle, and it stifled a yawn as it licked the spoon the god dropped down. “Yeah, you’re right, that’s enough.”

 

They didn’t seem to notice Keith though, so he just stood there and watched them, dumbstruck. The god hummed a familiar tune, something ancient, and it sounded a lot like the hymns that the Acolytes used to sing every Holy Day. He didn’t even realize he was unconsciously following the music, too, until he found the god’s eyes were directly staring at him.

 

“My—My Lord,” he stumbled, “I didn’t mean to intrude.”   
  
“Call me Yellow,” the god, Yellow, gave him a reassuring smile. “Come in,” he said, going back to his sizzling pan, “Everyone’s welcome in the kitchen.” 

 

Something smelled incredible in the air, and his stomach made its presence known with a loud rumble that stood out in the sudden silence in the room. 

 

Keith was mortified, but Yellow merely chuckled and gestured for him to sit down and take a plate. He picked a spot next to the shiny metal counter, well lit with those mysterious blue lights, and waited. The Yellow Lion came up to him, unfamiliar but friendly, and purred like a cat when he scratched the back of its ear. It unexpectedly sneezed when it sniffed his bright red robes, and he bursted out laughing. He’s never seen a Lion sneeze before.

 

The god apparently shared the same amusement. “Sorry, Yellow’s allergic to those plants Coran kept in his room. She can’t go around those things without sneezing like a kitten.” 

 

At his remarks, the lion somehow scrunched up its, no,  _ her, _ nose, to an expression that Keith vaguely read as irritation. But there was no real heat behind that look, because just a few seconds later, she pushed her head into Yellow’s hand again.

 

He chuckled, and pulled up a stool after serving Keith a dish of something resembling eggs. His brown eyes twinkled with specks of color, but the look oh his face was…weird, to say the least. 

 

“Eat up,” he said, blinking out of it, but his smile didn’t reach those eyes. Keith picked up the fork and took a bite, and the fluffy texture surprised him.

 

“What’s this?” he asked, already taking another bite. Yellow laughed, for real this time, seemingly pleased that he enjoyed it. “It’s an omelet. Seasoned eggs, to make it simple.” 

 

“How’d you make it?” Keith mumbled through a mouthful. It tasted heavenly, which he guessed, is fitting for something made by a god. 

 

Yellow’s eyes lit up, “If you wanna learn, I’ll teach you some other day.”

 

The Lion blinked at him, and he gave her a bite of the eggs, too. She happily munched it, graceful in her motions, and Keith smiled.

 

This is…okay.

 

* * *

 

“—irresponsible behavior, I expect you to have some sort of self control, Lance. I’ve never brought up the alcohol before, but if it’s becoming a problem, then we need to address it. You know full well what the mortal is here for, and Coran said he even felt the Red Lion stir in her slumber yesterday, when Keith arrived. You know how we’re the last—”   
  
“The last line of defense from the Galra,” he droned on in that insufferable monotone of his. “Shiro, please, I know. It won’t happen again.”

 

Their leader cooled down at the look on the water god’s face. “Look, Lance,” he set a hand on the latter’s shoulder, trying to put down the authority front and talked to the other god as a friend. “I know you’re still mourning Red’s death, and trust me, we all felt it, but it’s been decades. Her magic could only keep the Galra at bay for so long.”

 

His words backfired spectacularly. Lance clenched his fists, anger rolling off him in waves. “So now what, you want to  _ replace _ her? After everything she had done for us? For  _ you? _ Need I remind you, she saved your life numerous times—”   
  
“And I will forever be in her debt for that. But you have to see the situation as it is, Lance. We need an avatar for the Red Lion. She needs to bond to someone, or else she would be stuck in this slumber forever.”

 

“If we’re really that desperate, couldn’t Red reach out like the others did for us? Find an avatar herself? At least that would’ve been more acceptable than us actively trying to find someone to replace her.”   
  
Shiro’s face hardened and his voice was stern. “The Red Lion is injured. We all already know this. We must bring someone with the spirit of fire to her, if we ever want another ally in this fight. Without the Red Lion, Voltron would never be complete, and we don’t stand a chance against the Galra. We’ve been over this numerous times, Lance.”

 

“With all due respect, Shiro, this doesn’t seem right! It’s not natural, and you think Red would accept  _ him _ out of anyone? All the other tributes failed, what makes  _ him _ different?”

 

“That’s what we will have to find out. He’s only been here for a night, but we need to convince him to cooperate. You know force wouldn’t work here. If he is to be the spirit of fire, it must be of his own choice. And your little…display last night didn’t exactly help.”

 

A silence settled like a blanket over them both and finally Shiro sighed, resigned. “Please?” The storm clouds in his eyes have dissipated, leaving only a layer of remorse, borderlining on desperation, and how could Lance say no? 

 

…Allura would want him to try.

 

He scoffed. “Fine. I’ll play his little game.”


	4. pondering.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …She doesn’t get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh geez i am so sorry for this really late update XD i literally have zero schedule now and i'm kinda swarmed with work haha well here this is anyway

Pidge retreated to her chambers, slumming her back against the door.

 

Lance had another nightmare, just as she had predicted. When will he realizes that the more he drinks, the worse those dreams will be? It’s just pure statistics; she had even brought it up to him several times, but he would just look at her with this inexplicable pain in his eyes, and brushed her advice aside with a  _ thank you _ , giving her that smile that never seemed to reach his frozen eyes anymore. 

 

…She doesn’t get it.

 

Pidge isn’t the best with emotions, she knew that much. Which was unusual for an avatar of the Green Lion; she was supposed to represent life itself and life is always so vibrant and such a fickle thing. Pidge? She prefers real things, like facts and figures, things that she knew for sure would happen. Predictable. She thought of herself more suiting to something more analytical, but the Green Lion is also a patron of curiosity and knowledge, so she can’t exactly say that she was completely unfit for this position.

 

Lance had been…an anomaly, to say the least. 

 

Even back when before she was chosen, she had thought intelligence to be the most valued trait in…suitors, as her mother so adamantly insisted they call the men lining up by her door. Her father had been less concerned, instead choosing to support her when she wanted to pursue an even higher education. 

 

She thought this surge of affection would have died down centuries ago, when Allura became the Red Lion goddess. 

 

It’s not like she had envied the girl; they had gotten along handsomely, being the only two females in the midst of all the other gods, but something inside her stung a little when she saw the way Lance looked at Allura. Sometimes the critic in her said that being frozen in a body that would forever be sixteen probably wasn’t the most appealing in terms of attracting others, but she had long believed that it was the mind that matters the most. And Pidge was sure that was what Lance saw in Allura, too; a brilliant, fierce mind with an iron will and all the virtues of a leader. Shiro respected her in a way that wasn’t reserved for anyone else, and in turn, Pidge could respect that, too. 

 

But sometimes, just sometimes, the selfish bit of her that was hundreds of years old whispered in her ear, when it’s late at night and insomnia haunted her mind with thoughts of blue eyes and sun kissed skin, that she was there first. 

 

It was a fact as solid as the kingdom itself. She was there first. From the moment she met him and was unexpectedly swayed by the kindness in his voice, his touch, to now, when she fell against the door and let a familiar emptiness overtake her. She had always been there first.

 

But he had been so happy to be by the other goddess’s side that she thought, just maybe, if she stepped aside she could be happy too. After all, people always say that if you love someone, seeing them happy would be enough, right?

 

…She doesn’t get it. 

 

Pidge sighed and resigned herself to another session in the castle’s library, trying to distract herself with the task at hand. Finding the Red Lion an avatar worthy of her powers. 

 

Opening the door a bit hesitantly despite herself, she made her way through the long hallways that lit themselves with her footsteps. Green slunk out of the shadows and quickly came up to her side, nuzzling into her touch. Pidge laughed, a small, quiet sound, and let the silence take her, trying to forget the way her name lingered on his lips. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey Hunk?”   
  


“Yeah?”

 

“Did you ever notice he has her eyes?”

 

Hunk paused his tinkering with a brand new automaton, but he didn’t look up. “Yeah,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

 

Lance shrugged, curling up closer to his lion, “I just don’t know how to feel about it.”

 

“I don’t blame you,” the yellow god huffed out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “But do you think this might be a sign that he’s the right one? Coran did say that the Red Lion stirred, after all.”

 

He didn’t answer, instead choosing to mindlessly play with the plant Pidge gave him. It was an interesting little thing, with leaves curling up protectively at the prospect of touch, only to spring back a few minutes later. She said that it was supposed to be symbolism for something about recovery, with some faraway meaning, but literature wasn’t exactly her strongest suit.

 

Pidge. 

 

She was…an anomaly, alright.

 

Lance wasn’t blind; he could see that she was always there for him. They’ve been close friends for centuries, long before Allura ever came into the picture, and now they’re family. He just wasn’t sure what kind of affection it is that she has for him, whether it’s just the familial love they all shared or if it was something more. Lance couldn’t risk all that just to satisfy an irrational question, and he could never tell. Allura had even teased him endlessly for not noticing her feelings earlier. But in the end all that’s well ends well, right?

 

He couldn’t stand thinking about his late wife, yet his mind adamantly refuses to forget her. To  _ move on _ , as Shiro had so eloquently put it, was frankly impossible, not with how Lotor still roams around the universe despite the atrocity he committed. 

 

…It’s just not fair.

 

The only reason why Lance would ever agree to letting Shiro and the others find another avatar for the Red Lion was because they needed Voltron if storming Fort Daibazaal was ever going to be an option. And after Allura’s death, the Red Lion fell into a deep coma. Pidge and Coran both said that the Lion would regain her strength eventually, but it won’t be fast enough. It might take decades, even centuries, and though time is a blink to them, Shiro refused to allow them to be that vulnerable for so long in the middle of a war. 

 

The Galra have started to take over the other pantheons. They’ve already received distress signals from the Balmerans in the north, and the Olkarions were fighting the invading forces, too, as far as they know. But about a month ago, everything went silent.

 

…Deadly silent. 

 

Shiro has been on the edge of his seat after that, and the quest to find another Fire Avatar had never been more urgent. But they can’t just reveal themselves in front of their people and open an audition. One, that would be ridiculous, and two, mortals were never meant to see the gods. But Red was too weak to seek out another for her own, so they had to resort to sacrifices. And that puts them right…here.

 

Keith. 

 

Lance wrinkled his nose at the thought. 

 

“He’s not as bad as you peg him to be, y’know,” Hunk nonchalantly said, wiping the grease off his fingers with a rag he kept nearby, “Keith is a pretty nice guy.”

 

“How’d you know I was thinking about that?”

 

The god blinked at him as if he just grew a second head. “Uh, because you brought him up? And we were just talking about him?”

 

Oh.

 

Right.

 

Lance flopped back down on the plush cushions on Hunk’s floor, buttercup yellow and soft as a dream. “What makes you say he’s a nice guy, anyways?”

 

Hunk started clearing out his work desk, seemingly finished with whatever it was that he came up with today. He’s been building things more ever since this whole mess started, and Lance couldn’t help but feel concerned for his lifelong friend. Hunk is the kind of person to take things apart just to find out how they work, and then put them back together with even more improvements somehow. But he only does that whenever he’s nervous.

 

“He likes my cooking,” said Hunk. Lance rolled his eyes.

 

“Everyone likes your cooking, buddy.”

 

“Yeah but,” he sighed. “I just have a good feeling about this one, okay?”

 

“Wasn’t that what you said about Shay?”

 

Hunk flushed, “She is a good person! She’s just not the right one for Red, and that’s not her fault!”

 

The corner of Lance’s lips curled up in a smirk. Teasing his friend is one of the rare things that still gives him joy nowadays. “Yeah, she is,” he agreed, crossing his arms behind his head and staring up at Hunk’s ceiling, with numerous gems glittering and reflecting the gentle sunlight, “Too bad it wasn’t a good fit. I wouldn’t have minded working with her, and I have a feeling you wanted her to stay.”   
  


Hunk’s face dropped, gaze turned forlorn, “I know we can’t do it,” he said, picking up the tiny hummingbird automaton again; a gift for Pidge, “But sometimes I still want to see her again. Even just once, y’know?”

 

Lance wanted to say something, but the words died in the back of his tongue. 

 

He cleared his throat, “Don’t I know it.”

 

He didn’t even have to turn around to know that his friend was giving him that look again, full of remorse and pity and genuine concern. He knew that Hunk only wanted the best for him, but it was hard to accept pity out of all things. He’d rather him be harder like Shiro, or more logical like Pidge. 

 

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when Lance came to Hunk first after Allura died. 

 

He sighed, “Well, I’ll get out of your hair.” Hunk was looking up at him when he managed to pull himself up and give Yellow a pat, “You finished with that bird?”

 

“Not yet,” he said, picking at the delicate metal feathers on the tiny thing, “Still need to make it sing. You think Pidge would like this?”

 

Lance smiled, “Why not? You made it for her after all. And I’m sure she’ll do the exact same thing you’re doing, anyways.”

 

“What’d you mean?”

 

“Oh she’ll pick it open again, just you see.”


	5. judgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> geez its been wayy too long
> 
> i got some commissions from cockybusiness from tumblr! amazing art of keith in his sacrifice clothes in chapter 1 and pidge contemplating feelings in chapter 4! :DD 
> 
> keith: http://cockybusiness.tumblr.com/post/183384558971/commission-for-overgrownplants-from-their
> 
> pidge: http://cockybusiness.tumblr.com/post/183551540421/commission-for-overgrownplants-from-their
> 
> go check them out, they're amazing!!!

_ the heat from the flames flickering in front of him was daunting, utterly dangerous. they could burn him alive, he knew that. he didn’t back down, but couldn’t help it as a whimper escaped his lips, whether from fear or something else he couldn’t tell. laughter rumbled in her chest at the look on his face and suddenly he was breathless, staring at the way light reflected on those eyes, crystals glittering in the dark. _

 

_ fingertips, dancing on his sun kissed skin, burning yet he couldn’t pull away. the pain was too sweet, too maddening, and it set him free in a way nothing else had. he threw his head back and chanted her name, fear all but gone, nothing but a plea lingering on his lips. _

 

_ when she told him she loves him it sounded like a prayer. _

 

Lance awoke with tears on his cheek.

 

Pidge was nowhere to be found, and Blue was still sound asleep by his side, so he guessed the dream wasn’t that bad. He could never remember them for more than a fleeting moment; all that was left was a sense of loss, and he always, always wakes up crying.

 

It’s been twenty three years, seven months and eleven days.

 

He had gotten use to the emptiness next to him, yet every morning he turned over to that spot in the dire hope of finding someone there. 

 

He wiped his face. There’s no time for this spiral today.

 

In the past couple of days he’s been avoiding the mortal as much as possible. Him and Blue moved themselves to one of the empty rooms in the castle, since with the bracelets, the…mortal had to stay in his chambers. Lance made a note to talk about it with Shiro later, dismayed that his room had been ruthlessly taken over like that.  _ Pidge has a lot to make up for, _ he thought with a grunt. 

 

Blue yawned on his side and he smiled, fingers threading into her small mane comfortingly. She nuzzled back, still full of sleep, and he buried his face in her fur. 

 

He doesn’t like thinking about the mortal. 

 

But it’s time for the Black Lion to make its judgement, and so he pulled himself out of bed and give his darling Blue one last pat, content to just let her sleep in. Putting on his favorite kimono, he padded to the washroom to freshen himself up before breakfast. Like hell he’s going to skip his skin care routine.

 

Lance walked down a few minutes later, his nose following the scent of breakfast. The hallways were colder than usual, but the blue flames on the torches did a good enough job of keeping him warm. Poking his head into the kitchen, he scowled in both surprise and chagrin when he saw his best buddy Hunk with no one else other than…

 

The mortal.

 

His scowl deepened and he really gotta be careful or else there would be premature wrinkles on his face. His brain helpfully supplied that he is now immortal, and his skin was so perfect it doesn’t even need the extensive routine he put it through twice a day. 

 

Shut up, brain.

 

“Good morning, Blue,” Pidge greeted from the stool she was on, momentarily stop reading her book. Lance startled a bit before remembering that they were in the presence of a mortal, and willed himself to slip into codenames. Hunk look up from the sizzling pan and gave him a wide smile, waving his spatula. “Morning, Blue!”

 

“Good morning, Lord Blue,” the man said in pure formalities. He didn’t even look up to acknowledge the god and Lance felt his blood starting to boil.

 

“Morning, Green, Yellow.” He made it a point to ignore the only human in the room, who barely managed to conceal an annoyed eye roll. He raised his eyebrow challengingly and the man ducked his head, mumbling something under his breath. Hunk, who had witnessed the entire exchange, nervously laughed and started pulling out plates to diffuse the tension, while Pidge just watched with an amused expression. 

 

“How was your sleep?” she asked when he sat down next to her, and he ran a hand through his hair.

 

“Wasn’t as bad as usual,” he said, “Managed to fall asleep before sunrise so I’d call that a win.”

 

She exhaled something resembling a laugh, exasperated but fond, and he found himself grinning too. 

 

“Any news on your research?”

 

Her smile died out a little bit and her brows had that tiny crease that always appeared whenever she was frustrated, so he hugged her and rubbed a few soothing circles on her arm when she sighed and shook her head. 

 

“At least we’ll find out today,” he told her, and she looked up at him with a tiny, hopeful smile. There was something else in those ever changing eyes of hers that he could never make out, and the shades were so close to her robes and the vines on her arms that it makes him a bit breathless sometimes. He looked away before it showed on his face. 

 

“Yeah,” she replied with an equally conflicted expression. “Hopefully this will be over soon.”

 

“Breakfast, guys!” Hunk broke the awkward tension that’s been plaguing them, balancing four plates on his arms. The servings were piled to heaps with eggs, potatoes, and a speciality on Lance’s plate: fried bananas.

 

He loves this guy. 

 

“Come here and eat with us, Keith!” his best friend called.

 

…He still loves this guy, but maybe a little less. 

 

The mortal,  _ Keith _ , reluctantly sat next to Lance, picking up his fork for the omelet on his plate. He ate cautiously, watching the god through the corner of his eye, distrust full on his face. Lance took a deep breath to calm himself down and turned to a much more pleasant person on his other side.

 

“Has anyone seen Black? Or Coran?” Pidge asked, one hand petting her lion underneath the table. He reached out and Green pushed her head towards his palm too, and the tension slowly started to leave his shoulders. 

 

“They’re preparing for the ceremony, I think,” Hunk answered. The ceremony was a complicated thing. One would have to undergo the Black Lion’s judgement to see if they were worthy, and then try to awaken the Red Lion. His stomach churned at the thought of seeing Red again. 

 

Lance took another bite of his fried banana. Him and the Red Lion had been pretty close, even before Allura. After she fell, he even felt Red trying to reach out to him in desperation. There wasn’t much he could do other than soothing the lion and sending it into a hibernation sleep, but he could still feel mournful tugs at his heart once in a while, a pain that didn’t belong to him. Blue was just as devastated at the lost as Lance was, and together they did their best to calm Red down for her slumber. 

 

Her fire was an eternal one, and to appease it without snuffing it out was no easy task. But with no avatar to keep her power in check, Red could potentially burn the entire hemisphere down. They all had to channel their own elements to balance hers, so sometimes they would space out, their mind so far away on the spiritual realm that the world didn’t even feel real anymore. When half of their minds were focused on keeping the world from bursting into flames, they can’t exactly fight if the situation ever calls for it. 

 

Shiro said they can’t do this for much longer.

 

A hand touched his skin gingerly and he startled awake. Pidge was there with a small smile, her head tilted at the look on his face. She didn’t say anything, however, only pointing at his own plate with a silent request for him to eat before it goes cold. 

 

* * *

 

The Sanctuary of the Black Lion was something beyond Keith’s imagination. He might have had wild dreams about being in the night sky with stars twinkling not above his head but surrounding him, but nothing can really compare to the real thing.

 

Beside him, Green let out a whistle. “Damn,” she said, “I forgot how absolutely breathtaking this could be.”

 

“Yeah,” Blue replied, something akin to awe clear on his face, “Yeah.” 

 

Yellow let out a soft laugh at his fellow gods’ reactions. “Come on,” he nudged them a little, turning to Keith as well. “Black is probably waiting for us.” 

 

True to his word, Lord Black along with Coran were standing in the infinity pool in the middle of the Sanctuary with a patient look in their eyes. The water gently rippled with unseen breezes, and they reflect the numerous constellations on the ceiling. 

 

Above all, the sight of the Black Lion left him breathless.

 

She was a majestic creature, with all the grace of an all powerful being. Her eyes were pitch black but they mirrored the blinking lights, and Keith wondered if he could still stay sane when he look into those eyes. Her fur was inky but smooth, seamless, and it glittered with galaxies painted on every hair. She doesn’t need a mane to intimidate, and her beauty was that of poise and agility, of an iron fist in a velvet glove. Alteans worship panthers as their holy animal, and Keith could see why people said they were made after the image of the mighty Black Lion. 

 

Coran had told him two days ago about the real reason why he was summoned to the temple when he had frustratedly demanded an explanation. The old man had apologized but explained everything, from the Red Lion Goddess’s death to the predicament they were in now. Keith’s emotions have changed from anger to sympathy, sadness, and then fear, Coran had reassured him that if he wasn’t chosen his memory of this time would be completely wiped and he would be sent back to the mortal world, safe and far away from this godly war to live out his short human life. The way the minor god said it didn’t exactly put Keith to ease, but despite everything he found himself cowardly wishing that he wouldn’t be chosen. 

 

“Approach, Keith Kogane, tribute of the Altea Kingdom,” the black god’s voice shook the room like thunder, and his knees threatened to buckle out. But he put off his thoughts and steeled himself like he always does, walking towards the beast like the warrior he was raised to be. All fear vanished when he was face to face with the Black Lion, and he could see her eyes reflecting his soul, electricity dancing on his skin and making every single one of his hair standing on edge. He swallowed with a dry throat but keep his position as her eyes roamed his form, her divine judgement of his worth rooting him in place even worse than Blue’s icy glare. From the corner of his eye he vaguely made out the sight of Coran’s supportive smile, and that lifted the burden somewhat. 

 

Lord Black made a face when the Lion returned to him and Keith had feared the worst. But the Lion stayed silent, no shaking thunder or blinding lightning, not even the slightest bit of emotion. Coran’s smile slowly fizzled out, and he could practically feel the suffocating tension in the room, taste the confusion coming off the other three gods attending the ceremony. 

 

Lord Black cleared his throat at the deafening silence. “The Black Lion has made her judgement.” Everyone held their breaths and Keith screwed his eyes shut. “You have the spirit of fire in you, Keith Kogane.”   
  
The room dropped fifteen degrees and he shivered, whether from the cold or shock he wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling Blue had something to do with this, because Green hissed and socked him in the shoulder.

 

“However,” the god continued, and they all straightened themselves up again, “the Red Lion cannot accept you like this. She is still deep in her slumber, and your soul has yet to accept the gift of fire that you were given. By the power of the Black Lion, you are granted sanctuary to stay here until the Red Lion accept you, whenever that may be. You would still be under the surveillance and…command of the Blue Lion god, but from now on you shall be welcomed as one of us in this Temple.”

 

Keith felt his heart sank at the thought of continuing to be a slave for Blue. And with the way he could practically feel the god burning a hole on his back with his vicious glare, he guess that the feeling was reciprocated. He cursed under his breath. He never asked for any of this. Why did it have to be him? Keith Kogane, the Galran orphan, the lone wolf who always works alone, the one with no loved ones left? Has he not suffered enough? He knew that people would kill to get the chance to become an immortal god with immense power, but to him, it’s nothing but a curse. 

 

He didn’t even realize how tightly his fist was clenched until Coran gently took his hand and led him away from the Black Lion. The ceremony was over, yet silence hung over them like a thick blanket of smoke after a forest fire, choking out any sort of comfort. 

 

“I’ll be in the library if anyone needs me.” Lady Green broke the silence with a sigh, and Yellow jumped at her words. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, something a bit desperate on his voice, and she nodded with a smile. They left together with hushed whispers and their Lions slunk out of the shadows to accompany them. 

 

Nobody had ever passed the Black Lion’s judgement before. Well…passed. Keith was a potential candidate, and that’s all it was; he was nowhere near the god they needed him to be. His thoughts haunted him as Coran led him out of the room to give Blue and Black some space, as they started to squabble in earnest.

 

“Best to leave them to it, my boy,” the old man said kindly, “Would you like a tour of the Castle? I know that we haven’t been the most hospitable to you, but it’s only because we weren’t sure how long you would be allowed to remain here.” An apologetic smile pulled on his lips and Keith found himself smiling back. “I hope you can forgive us.”   
  
“Of course,” he said, following the minor god as they leave the Sanctuary.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im trying to get through this mess first so we can move on to the better stuff


End file.
